


Kite Strings

by Ice_Elf



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 00:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice_Elf/pseuds/Ice_Elf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>I thought, that if I understood what it was like for you, if I knew what it felt like, I might start believing you’d come back. Then I could concentrate on you, instead of my own stupid, selfish feelings </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kite Strings

He’s floating in the blackness, soaring through endless skies of dark. There’s nothing here but the all consuming shadow; a beast that desires to swallow him whole. It tugs on the bond that holds him to life, tries to wrench the line free. It wants him, it has always wanted him and it has always been denied.

There is another tug, this time in the other direction. It us as if someone has taken hold of the line and is trying to reel him in. There’s a soft voice, almost on the edge of reality, coaxing him back. He feels the tug again, the voice a stronger pull than the darkness.

The bond that connects him to life has always been there, but there was a time when he would have gladly let the darkness wrench that line free. Hands have grasped that line since then, strong, gentle hands that will never willing release it. They reel him back, keep him anchored to life and will never free him to float in the black forever.

He’s only recently realised that he never wants them to.

* * *

Jack jerks back to life, gasping in breath and grabbing hold of the nearest item to steady himself. His fingers slide over cotton and silk, curling into the fabric as he turns his gaze upwards to meet a pair of concerned blue eyes. They’re reddened, as if the owner had been crying recently, and one of them is bruised. His cheek is swollen, a violent discolouration marring the beautiful face. He reaches up, hand pausing millimetres from the bruise before falling back to his side.

“That looks painful.”

Ianto shrugs, brushing the comment off. “It’s nothing. Especially compared to what you got.” He smiles, but in the dim light of the warehouse it looks more like a grimace. Jack wonders if that is perhaps closer to the mark – Ianto hates it when he dies, perhaps even more than Jack himself.

“How long was I gone?”Jack asks, voice echoing in the large empty room. Something about Ianto’s demeanour suggests that it wasn’t a quick return.

“It’s been fifty-six minutes since you were shot.” Ianto says, “I don’t know how long you were...” He swallows, “they ran when you went down. We had to follow them. I had to leave you alone.”

Jack nods, stroking a hand down Ianto’s arm “you did the right thing.” He’s suddenly grateful that he hit his head as he fell. Unconsciousness saved him from the memories of bleeding to death, cold and alone on the warehouse floor. If there’s one thing worse than dying, it’s dying alone.

“What happened?” he asks, breaking the silence before Ianto is given too long to dwell on the guilt he feels at leaving Jack to die. He takes Ianto’s hand in his own and gives it a quick squeeze in unspoken and unnecessary forgiveness.

“They’re dead,” Ianto says, “they were targeting a children’s play area – we didn’t have a choice. There were a lot of witnesses - Gwen’s still dealing with the people at the scene. I told her I’d be back as soon as I’d made sure you were alright.” He eases himself to his feet and holds out a hand to Jack.

Jack takes the hand, squeezing as he uses it to pull himself upwards. On his feet, he places a kiss to the knuckles, lips barely brushing the soft flesh. “Come on,” he says, releasing the hand and letting Ianto dust his suit down, “let’s go and find Gwen. The sooner this is finished, the sooner you get to take me home.”

***

“What does it feel like, when you die?”

Jack stiffens at Ianto’s question. They’re lying in bed, Ianto’s head cushioned on his chest, in the peaceful afterglow of sex. It’s not a subject that has ever been broached after the initial conversation on how it happened. Ianto has always seemed unwilling to talk about it – a sentiment Jack understands entirely – and that in itself makes the question most unexpected.

“It’s alright,” Ianto says, clearly having deduced from Jack’s movement and subsequent hesitancy that it’s a conversation that is best left well alone. “If you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t mind.”

“It’s not that,” Jack shakes his head, wondering at his willingness to share this with Ianto. He has always had his secrets and few have known as many as Ianto. Jack puts that down to many reasons: that Ianto will believe, that Ianto is never judgemental and, perhaps most of all, that Ianto understands the necessity of secrets and will never ask questions without good reason.

He feels Ianto stir against him and wraps an arm tighter round him. “I just don’t understand why you would want to know. You’ve always distracted me when I’ve brought... this... up in the past.”

“I know,” Ianto moves, rolling off Jack and propping himself up on an elbow so he can look Jack in the eyes. “It’s just... I never quite believe you’ll come back until it happens. Every time, I sit there, wondering if this time you’re really gone. Then, you do come back and I feel guilty for even doubting you, and for worrying about how I’m going to cope without you when what you’re dealing with must be ten thousand times worse. I thought, that if I understood what it was like for you, if I knew what it felt like, I might start believing you’d come back. Then I could concentrate on you, instead of my own stupid, selfish feelings.”

Jack sits up, covers pooling around his waist as he stares at Ianto in surprise. “Oh, Ianto,” he whispers, reaching out to cup Ianto’s cheek. “There is not a selfish bone in your entire body. Don’t ever feel guilty for grieving - dying is nothing compared to the pain of being left behind.”

He’s reminded of exactly why he fell in love with Ianto and has to kiss him. His lips brush over Ianto’s as he tugs him closer. He’s tempted for a moment to take things further - to hell with explanations – but Ianto deserves better. He deserves answers, if only to put his mind at rest and rid him of these ridiculous feelings of selfishness and guilt.

He settles back against the pillows, beckoning Ianto close and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It’s just blackness and I’m floating in it.” He pauses, running a hand through his hair as he struggles for the words to describe the situation. “It’s like I’m a kite. The darkness it tugging at me, trying to pull me away with it but it can’t because there’s a bit of string; some bond that connects me to life and it won’t let me go into that darkness, no matter how hard it pulls, no matter how much I wish it would snap, releasing me to death.”

“You make it sound as if you want to die,” Ianto says, his voice a mere whisper. He shifts in Jack’s arms to gaze up at Jack. “If life really that terrible for you?”

Jack winces at the pain in Ianto’s tone and leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Not anymore,” he says, “there was a time when death would have been welcome but now I’ve got someone clinging to my piece of string and pulling me back in.”

He smiles at the look of mingled surprise and delight on Ianto’s face and runs a hand down Ianto’s bare back before continuing, “I always come back, Ianto, because I’m tethered to this earth but now, with you holding onto my kite strings I have something to pull me back. The day you let go, floating off into that blackness is going to seem a whole lot more tempting but as long as you keep holding on, I’ll always come back to you, Ianto. Where ever I might go.”

Ianto stirs, pressing a trail of kisses along Jack’s collarbone and up his neck before stopping. He hovers over Jack with a smile on his face, their lips barely an inch apart. “Then I’m going to cling to your kite strings with everything I’ve got,” he says, breath caressing Jack’s face. “I’m never going to let you go,” he adds, closing the gap between them with a kiss.

Jack deepens the kiss, fingers sliding into Ianto’s hair, holding his head in place. His other hand drifts down Ianto’s back, landing on his hip. When Ianto finally pulls back, placing a second, chaste kiss at the corner of Jack’s mouth, it is to retake his position at Jack’s side. Their kiss was no passionate prelude to sex, but the sharing of gratitude, comfort and most of all love.

“Thank You,” Ianto murmurs as his arms slide around Jack, letting the Captain shift closer and placing another kiss on his shoulder. They lie there in the quiet of night, not ruining the moment with unnecessary speech. Jack knows when Ianto finally falls asleep from the change in breathing and the subtle relaxation of his body. Only then does he imperceptibly tighten his grip on Ianto, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

In his sleep Ianto shifts closer, a small smile gracing his features. His fingers twitch, curling around Jack’s hip, never letting go – just like he had promised.

They will one day. Jack dreads the day when Ianto’s hands will fall from his kite strings. He’ll still return to life. He always will, but when that day comes it will surely strengthen the pull of the darkness.

It won’t be enough. It never is.


End file.
